


Indigo Ice

by SerpentineJ



Series: Olicolm: 25 Days of OTP [14]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: I'm so sorry, Ice Skating, M/M, Olicolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>14.	Ice skating (it’s just really cute okay). Olicolm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indigo Ice

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: Augh. I don’t even know. I have no excuses. I’ll try my best to make it up, I swear.

**14\. Ice skating (it’s just really cute okay).**

The air is cold and crisp, a row of lights glittering on the path beside the lake, piercing the indigo blackness and brightening the inky space.

“What are we doing, Malc?” Ollie is frowning, blindfolded, his hand in Malcolm’s.

Tucker leads him along the lakeside path, tugging his arm, a rare grin lighting up his face, and pulls him to a gazebo on the shore of the frozen lake.

“Alright, take it off.” His face is split with a childish smile.

Ollie removes the black swath of fabric obscuring his eyes, folding it into his pocket, and looks around. 

His eyes are wide and sparkling. “W-wow.” He says wonderingly, breath crystallizing in the chill air and frosting the night. “Malc…”

The pavilion is wooden, snow resting lightly on the banisters and the stairs, lights twined around the banisters and dangling in drapes off the roof, twinkling and warm against the darkness. A sheen of silver coats the surface of the lake, shimmering cold, glinting with the light of the moon and the air nearly glitters with the picture-perfect quality of the scene.

Malcolm looks uncharacteristically… shy and gleeful, as contradictory as it sounds, Reeder thinks, and he leans to kiss him sweetly on the lips. 

“Didn’t know you were such a romantic.” He teases, smiling hopelessly sappily and winding his arms around Tucker’s waist. 

The other smirks. “Shut it.” He detangles himself from his boyfriend and makes his way to a small basket on a bench. Reeder can’t suppress his disbelieving chuckle at seeing two sets of ice skates emerge from its depths.

When Malcolm pulls Ollie onto the ice surprisingly gracefully, he wobbles and nearly falls, held steady only by his boyfriend’s hand on his waist. The giggles come unprovoked, bubbling up within him along with a near unbearable sense of happiness.

“You’re really good at this.” Ollie notices, smirking. “Ice-skating lessons for young Malcolm? Not surprising, you walk like a penguin, so you should swim and skate like one.”

Tucker doesn’t respond, just gives him a smile and a light nudge that propels them both across the ice, whizzing and scraping and, in Reeder’s case, stumbling, but Malcolm’s always there to catch him. The thought sends a small firework to the pit of his stomach.

The sight is nearly too cliché, he thinks, two lovers skating under a crescent moon, Christmas lights twinkling in the background, the whole scene bathed in lunar light.

He nearly falls over, he’s smiling so much.

~~~~~~

When they’ve had their fun, Ollie’s arse sore and cold, Malcolm’s arms tired from guiding his boyfriend about on the ice and helping him up when he falls, they make their way back to the gazebo, cheeks flushed pink, ear-to-ear grins matching in the moonlight. 

They tug off their skates, dumping them in the bag, and Tucker pulls out a thermos and two mugs. “I brought hot chocolate.” He says, already unscrewing the cap on the warm container and pouring cupfuls of the still steaming liquid, the warm scent of chocolate filling the air.

“Mmm.” Ollie sits on the bench with a sigh of contentment, still grinning, and takes one mug, cupping it in both hands, savoring its warmth before taking a sip. “You really are ridiculously sappy, Malc.”

Malcolm scoots in beside him, clutching his own cup of sweetness, and smirks. “It’s all your fault.”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I swear. I will get stuff done. Finals are kicking my ass.


End file.
